


For the Dead Travel Fast

by havocthecat



Category: Bram Stoker - Dracula, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The spirits of murdered men lie unquietly in their graves, and may, on occasion, rise to drink the blood of the living. It is said they seek to spread their curse, and, by doing so, ease the loneliness of their damned existence.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Dead Travel Fast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xochiquetzl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xochiquetzl/gifts).



> Originally posted for [Yuletide 2008](http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/60/forthe.html).

_Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has at stake._ \--Dr. Seward's diary

***

Quincey loves Texas, but it is home to him no longer. He knows that he gave up the place of his birth when he first clapped eyes on Miss Lucy Westenra. Even though she would not have him, he had sworn on that day that, forever after, the green and rain-dampened hills of England would be his home.

His oath is impossible to keep. The sun sinks on his life at the same time as it does on Count Dracula's, and his grave is in the hills of Transylvania. He lies buried here because it would invite plague to transport a body from the wild and untamed Carpathians such a distance as it is to England. Van Helsing and Seward would quash such an idea, no matter how urgently Holmwood, Harker, and dearest Mina might have fought.

The mist is wild about him. Ghostly figures dance in the air; they tear at his hat and cry out for him to give them substance. It has been seven long years since they have had form. It has been seven long years since he has seen the sun's bright light crest over the mountaintops. Seven long years since he's been able to find peace, or to let himself rest.

Quincey is a brave man. There are few he would deem so fearless as to face these spirits once again, and he has heard reports that those few are making their way through the Borgo pass. A true and honest man will face that which makes cowards quake in their boots. Quincey often wonders if he is still such a man, or if he is even a man at all. This night, the most important of all the nights since he started to ask himself such a question, he is put to the test.

His friends arrive at Dracula's castle, and though Quincey does not let them see that he still walks the Earth, he hides himself in shadows and watches over them. Their tour is quiet, and the lanterns that they carry wash light across the ruined columns, the moldering books of the library, and the desecrated chapel that Van Helsing re-consecrated during their adventures.

Quincey follows them as they make their way back to Buda-Pesth. He remains silent and unseen, though Mrs. Harker - Mina, who escaped the curse that lies heavy on his murdered soul - stops her horse once, and casts her gaze into the darkness. The child seated in front of her, the boy who must be her son and Jonathan's, tugs at her sleeve. She smiles down at him, and the touch of her hand as she smooths her fingers across his brow settles him at once.

All is at peace. He should not be here. Nevertheless, he stays.

***

The bells of the great church ring out every hour. They are deep and sonorous instruments, well suited for the solemnity of this ancient city. Quincey thinks that they should herald God's dominion over the land, and that His power should drive away the accursed un-dead.

They hold no dread for Quincey, however, and if God's power can be seen, it's not from prayers or music, so he stays. The parlor his friends occupy has a window to the courtyard. He sees that Holmwood and Seward have wives now, women who complement them and make them at ease. Harker and Mina have withdrawn to talk quietly, forever each other's equal, and Van Helsing goes over letters and studies basic figures with the boy. His heart aches to be a part of their lives.

The shadows grow longer, and the night stretches on. When the church bells peal out midnight, Quincey begins to think of leaving. All is quiet. It is a surprise, then, when the door to the courtyard opens, and Mina steps out. She is unescorted, dressed in sober colors, but her hair falls loose down her back, and her head and hands are covered by neither cap nor gloves. She carries no light with her, and he thinks she needs none to see.

She walks with certainty through the yard, away from the horses. Those noble steeds can sense the unnatural and profane, and so Quincey has kept himself from them. When she reaches the fence bordering the yard - it is more a wall than anything - she turns and studies all that is in her view. It must be mere chance that her eyes alight upon his all-but-insubstantial figure.

"Quincey Morris." She murmurs the words, and does not look hesitant or uncertain.

Dread swims in Quincey's gut. He does not answer. Were he to breathe still, he would hold the air deep in his lungs so that she did not see him.

"Quincey, do not hide yourself from me any longer." Mina's voice is imploring, and Quincey's longing for companionship is so great that he cannot help but coalesce himself from the mist that floats in the night air.

She does not gasp in fear. Mina is a good, true woman, one who can handle a gun as well as any man. Her hearty bravery continues to cheer him, even now, when it is he who is causing her the need to set aside fear. He is relieved when he sees the unstained whiteness of her brow. The taint has truly passed from her. It was no fever dream as he lay dying.

"Hello, Mina," he says. A wolf cries out to the moon. It is nearer to the city than he thought one would dare to venture. Perhaps his presence is drawing it close. "Didn't think I was going to see any of you again."

"It must have been very lonely for you, these past seven years." Her voice is full of care and compassion.

"I have my memories to keep me company during the long winter nights." Quincy's voice is stopped up with emotion as she steps closer.

A sudden burst of wind blows clouds from the moon's face, and its pale light washes across Mina's face. Her lips take on a ruddiness he knows well, and her teeth grow sharp and white as a cunning look comes into her eyes. She smiles at him, and though she doesn't speak, he knows well what her eyes are saying.

"No," he says. "No, it can't be." The look of the vampire. It was there for an instant, but is gone once again. Quincey's countenance is stricken with horror even as he discovers he longs for companionship. He cannot hide it from himself. He wishes to be with others who can share the endless hunger he feels. To have all he thought lost--

He cannot. He _must_ not. Not after all those brave and virtuous souls struggled so that Mina could live her life untainted by this evil.

"Jonathan does not know." Mina touches a locket clasped round her throat. "None of the others do. You cannot help but see. Your outward nature espies that which is hidden within me."

At his continued silence, Mina steps forward. She takes one of his hands in both of hers. There is warmth in her delicate limbs still, and Quincey leans forward. He hungers for her, but finds the strength to turn his face away. He meets the gaze of a wolf padding toward them. It noses at Mina's skirts, and Quincey pulls his eyes back to meet hers. She shows no surprise at the beast's arrival.

"I do not want you to suffer my fate," he tells her, his voice growing fierce. "Dearest Mina, you must go away from me."

"When Jonathan travels abroad," begins Mina, her grip upon his hand one of steel, "my sister Lucy comes to me. Her body has no substance, not any longer, but she twines her limbs together with mine."

Quincey shakes his head. "My hopes that you and Miss Lucy could find the peace denied me are mightily dashed."

"I cannot turn her away," says Mina. Her eyes are wide, but her pose is languid, and she shudders deliciously. "We have been together since we were girls, and she is so cold now. The heat of my body is the only thing that will warm her. I could not be so cruel."

"You mustn't give in." It takes all of his mustered strength to give force to those words.

"Come to London." Mina lets his hands drop, where they hang at his side, leaden and still. She tugs a brooch loose from the fabric of her dress, then pricks her finger. Blood wells from the ungloved tip of her forefinger. Quincey stares at her, paralyzed into stillness, as she touches it to his mouth, then slips a purse into his hand. When he reaches in, he discovers it's full of earth. It must be from Texas. The cool, soothing feel of his home washes over him. "We are connected, you and I and Lucy."

Quincey stays behind and watches as she departs for her marriage bed. He vanishes as the door shuts behind her, long before dawn can fill the sky with her rosy light.

London. The word - and all the promise attendant in it - echoes in Quincey's ears long after the slumber he has been denied for so long claims him.

-end- 

 


End file.
